


Not Anywhere, Not Anyone

by Rolly_chan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sleepwalking, Strong Language, post season 3B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1732250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rolly_chan/pseuds/Rolly_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up in the forest with no recollection how he got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Anywhere, Not Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the cottoncandy bingo (prompt: Lost/Found). Just pretend the last few minutes of the last episode didn't happen, kay? I have no excuse for this fic other than that I wanted to hug them all (and needed to fill a prompt).

_Cold_.

Stiles felt it creep right through his skin. Cold and wet and dirty. He fumbled for his covers but only managed to dig away leaves and soil and moss.

_Leaves?_ Stiles froze. _Soil and moss?_

He opened his eyes to lots and lots of yellow and brown leaves along with green moss. On forest ground. The same as under his hands. Right to the top of his vision he could see a thick brown root of a tree disappearing into the ground. So the thing stubbornly poking him was probably a tree. At first, his brain didn't process it all and he stupidly blinked at his surroundings. Then — Stiles didn't remember how much time had passed — his whole being seemed to catch up with what had very probably happened and he rose with a start, heart suddenly beating hard and fast.

He couldn't have sleepwalked, could he? The last time it happened was when... when he had been possessed by the nogitsune — _and lost oh so much_... And the last time it happened before that was when he had been a kid. His chest began to feel heavy and constricted, and he could feel the panic attack creeping up on him, but he forced himself to take deep breaths, close his eyes and just focus on the breathing. _In... and out..._ There had to be a logical explanation for his sleepwalking this time. It couldn't have been something supernatural again, could it? The nogitsune was supposed to be gone, and Stiles had just started to believe it. But now, sitting on the cold forest floor, suppressing a panic attack, he felt the icy dread again, just like before with the nogitsune. But that couldn't be. It had to be something simpler.

He pushed his thoughts aside, seeing as they didn't help him figure out how to get back at all. Which was just the question. After another, more analytical and thorough look, he noted that he didn't recognize this part of the woods. Like, at all. Stiles had no fucking clue where exactly he was; he could as well be in any forest anywhere in the country.

He took another deep breath and exhaled audibly before pushing himself off the ground, ignoring the weakness in his muscles and the light trembling of his hands. At least he was wearing outdoor clothes, even if he had no memory of putting them on after going to sleep last night. They didn't really help all that well with the cold (he had a suspicion it had to do with him having been out here for a while), but they did keep him warm enough not to freeze.

"Okay, think rationally, Stiles," he said — or rather, rasped — to himself, clearing his throat afterward. If you got lost in the woods, what should you do? He vaguely remembered reading somewhere that you should stay where you are. But the person who wrote that probably didn't know shit about the supernatural and how it was out to make Stiles's life a living hell if he wasn't careful. So staying right here definitely wasn't an option. It wasn't night, so no astronomy, either (thank fuck for it being day, though).

"Fewer branches to the north," he muttered to himself and at the same time surveyed the trees. Which had the same fucking amount of branches everywhere (at least Stiles didn't see a damn difference). "Well, fuck."

Time went by, and when Stiles couldn't ignore feeling like a lost puppy any longer because he was still stupidly standing where he woke up, he let out a huff and turned around to face a tree. He didn't even know what kind of tree it was.

"I should mark this place," he said to himself, feeling just a tiny little bit crazy, but it helped him feel a little bit calmer. He wished it would also make him feel less isolated. Sighing, he picked up a rock from the ground and carved an 'X' into the bark.

"You poke me, I carve you." It was supposed to be a joke, but Stiles really didn't feel like laughing (and it was a really lame one, he had to admit). Then he braced himself and marched ahead.

For some reason, though, Stiles always seemed to return to that damnable place he woke up at. He felt even worse than before and was running out of ideas. His father should start looking for him soon, shouldn't he? But then, would they search the woods? Stiles didn't even know in which part of the woods he was (and sincerely hoped he was in the forest around Beacon Hills). But Scott could surely sniff him out. His father would contact him first. Even if things between them were still a bit awkward. _Scott still loves him, though, Stiles knows, because Scott's got the biggest heart._

Exhausted and cold from walking, Stiles sat down under a tree opposite of the one he had started to call his tree. He just leaned against it, when suddenly something in his pocket started buzzing and then just as suddenly his ring tone played and Stiles practically jumped to his feet again from the unexpectedness of it. He fumbled clumsily for the phone and it almost slipped out of his hands — they were way too cold and trembled too much — but he managed to accept the call, without looking at who it was.

"Stiles?" the sheriff's voice flooded his ear and Stiles could hear the worry dripping of just his own name.

"Dad?" Stiles still couldn't believe he had had his phone in his pocket this whole time, and he'd love to say he hadn't ever been happier to hear his father's voice, but that statement was reserved for the whole nogitsune fiasco.

"God, Stiles, where are you? You weren't picking up your phone."

"I — I'm... I don't know, I—"

"Are you okay?" the sheriff interrupted, but it was just as well, because Stiles had no idea what he had wanted to say.

"I'm... fine. Just... I'm in the forest, dad. I don't know where I am... I... I don't know—" Stiles stammered, his voice sounding more whiny by the end of it than he had intended, and he hoped his father would at least ignore it, because Stiles was pretty sure he had heard.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm with Scott, we're already at the forest. He's got your trail," his father said, now sounding much calmer and firm, like he had everything under control. Then he heard a different voice.

"How is he?" It was Lydia.

"Lydia? Dad, is that Lydia?"

"Yes, she said some voices told her — whispered — to her to look for you. Stiles, listen, stay put and don't try to find your way out. We'll find you sooner if you don't move."

"I know." Stiles felt himself smiling just a little bit. Seemed like his supernatural friends already had everything under control. He felt a little guilty for making them worry again. "I have marked some trees with an 'X', but I've returned to the place I woke up at..."

"Good... good. Seems like Scott found a lead, Stiles. We'll get you. Just wait for us, will you?"

"Sure."

They hung up and Stiles kept staring stupidly at the screen of his phone. All he had to do was wait now, right? He slumped down again, resting against his tree, and suddenly all his pent up nervousness had fallen off his shoulders, and he felt even more exhausted than before. He'd be found soon. His dad, Scott, and even Lydia were looking for him. Everything would be fine, he knew. So he allowed himself to close his eyes — just for a bit — as a breeze howled across the leafless trees.

Stiles woke with a crick in his neck and his muscles aching. When he tried to stretch, he moaned at the uncomfortable creaking his bones made. "I'm too old for this," he muttered, totally disregarding the fact that he wasn't even of age.

A loud crack resounded from somewhere he couldn't locate, and Stiles froze. _Don't panic, Stiles_ , he told himself.

"Scott?" Stiles asked and looked behind him, not yelling because he knew Scott would hear him anyway with his werewolf hearing. There was no reply. "Well, worth a try."

"Stiles," someone said suddenly and Stiles whirled back around so fast, arms flailing, that he almost fell down on his butt (thankfully, he didn't).

"Oh my god — Derek?" he blurted, eyes growing wide, "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here? You're in the middle of the woods," Derek replied. He didn't sound arrogant or angry, which he usually was around Stiles ( _not so much after the nogitsune_ ). He sounded neutral, more nice, somehow. He almost sounded _concerned_ , but Stiles chose not to take note of that, because a concerned-for-Stiles Derek? Definitely creepy. It had been creepy enough after the nogitsune, and it continued to be so now.

"I'm, uh, admiring nature in its, uh, natural beauty," Stiles said, deadpan. Getting lost wasn't something to brag about, so he definitely would only tell Derek if he absolutely had to. Though considering Derek's raised brow, Stiles could easily deduce that the guy knew already. Was kinda hard to miss. Derek opened his eyes a little wider in inquiry, brows still raised, and maybe Stiles was freaked out just enough to simply comply and spill everything.

"Okay, so I woke up right there," he pointed at his tree, "and don't have a fucking clue where I am and then dad called and now they're all looking for me, but I think I fell asleep again and now I don't know how late it is and how long they've been looking and why they're still not here and I still have no fucking clue where I am, so—"

"Stiles." Derek's steady, calm voice cut him off, definitely for the better. He had started to blabber, which made the whole situation even more embarrassing. "Calm down. I can smell Scott, he's on his way."

"Oh." Stiles blinked slowly. That had been the most reassuring thing he had heard all day. He hadn't heard much on this day, of course. Except for stupid chirping birds and rustles in the bushes and the wind howling through the trees and all other creepy shit that surely would have been a million times creepier had it been night. He felt himself relax a tiny bit. It felt good.

Derek suddenly cocked his head to the side, his (relatively) soft expression morphing back into the serious scowl he always wore so well. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Stiles replied, because he hadn't heard anything. Obviously. He wanted to point out to Derek that he still wasn't a werewolf, when something struck him as weird.

Something was different. Something was decidedly different. He could feel a weird, warm energy around him, and although the energy in itself felt pretty nice, it freaked Stiles out. Everything supernatural he didn't know freaked him out these days (and sometimes, he acknowledged with a quick glance at Derek, even the things he did know).

He looked around himself, but other than Derek who was still straining to hear something, nothing really stood out. Then it registered. At first, it sounded like a melodious buzz — insects? Stiles mused — but then it grew a little louder, and Stiles thought he could actually make out _words_. It sounded like a choir lazily singing a soft tune in an ancient, pretty language. It was very pleasing to the ears. For some weird reason, Stiles felt himself relax even more, as if a choir in the middle of the woods wasn't something to worry about. Stiles did wonder why he wasn't freaking out about this, but it felt nice not having all this nervous energy oozing out of him, so he let it go.

Derek also seemed to have a sense of calm around him, judging by his loosely hanging shoulders and arms and his smoothened out features. It looked a little odd on him, but it also made him seem more approachable. So Stiles approached him.

They looked at each other for a moment, before Derek smirked at him. "You seem calm."

_Well, duh_ , Stiles thought, but he didn't voice that. Instead, he poked Derek in his right shoulder, because why the hell not? It was better than just standing in front of Derek like a dope. He could as well poke him like a dope.

"Back at you," he said, to which Derek raised his brows in surprise. Hadn't he realized that? Stiles would have thought werewolves were good at the sensing emotions part. Apparently, their own emotions were a different matter.

"Scott'll be here any minute," Derek said, but Stiles's eyes caught a weird, green glow behind him. He ignored Derek's information and focused on that... whatever it was.

"A tree," he said, sounding confused even to his own ears. Why would a tree glow green? If that didn't scream SUPERNATURAL, then Stiles didn't know what did. But he still felt calm and collected, plus a little bit drowsy, and he had this inexplicable urge to cuddle up with all of his _pack_ , which was definitely a first.

"Stiles!" he heard someone shout in the distance, but the green glowing of the tree was far more fascinating. Stiles swore the music came right from the glow.

"Maybe it's enchanted?" Stiles said out loud, then felt Derek's hand come down on his shoulder, resting there lightly. When he looked up and to the side, Derek nodded at him.

"Maybe."

Apparently, Derek chose to ignore the shouting as well. Maybe it wasn't a smart decision, but there was definitely a strange pull coming from the tree — _his_ tree, Stiles noticed by the carved out 'X' — that he didn't have the energy to resist. His nervous energy was gone, and the evidence around him (or in front of him) clearly spoke that the tree was the thing responsible for it. And wasn't that kinda nice? It was Stiles's first encounter with the supernatural that didn't somehow end in chaos, attempted, or realized murder. It was a nice thought.

He started towards the tree, at the same time that Derek also moved forward, walking towards it in sync. But before they reached it, something rustled and Scott came jumping out of the bushes and trees to the side. Stiles's heart made a little jump at seeing his best friend, especially when he kept looking at Stiles like he hadn't seen him in years. The melody briefly rose in tune at the sudden disturbance, but remained. Behind Scott, his dad followed, relief clearly visible in his eyes when he spotted Stiles. Lydia graciously stepped around the branches in her high heels, the last of the group. Her lips pulled into a beautiful smile when she saw him, and she exclaimed a rather happy "Stiles!"

Scott scrambled forward and pulled Stiles into a tight hug. It felt so familiar and good, like Scott was giving back something that was broken, and Stiles gave into it and buried his face in the junction of Scott's neck and shoulder. For the first time in forever, Stiles let go of it all and let himself fall, assured Scott, his dad, Lydia, even Derek, would all catch him.

"What is this?" Lydia asked, turning around until she spotted the glowing tree. "It's pretty."

"Stiles, you okay?" Scott asked, and only after Stiles nodded did he turn his head to look at what Lydia had pointed at. In fact, they were now all staring at it, as the melody kept surrounding them all.

"Do you all hear that?" Scott asked, apparently having caught the tune, too. His arms tightened around Stiles again, and Stiles realized that maybe, this tree had made them all weird. Cuddly and calm and relaxed.

The sheriff came up to them and put his arms around Scott and Stiles, confirming Stiles's theory. When Derek and Lydia joined them, it removed all his remaining doubt. The tree definitely had some weirdliness magic power or something. But if felt so nice having his 'pack' so close. Stiles thought he definitely understood the werewolf mentality a bit better now.

He closed his eyes, smiling when he noticed he was actually warm, as if he had never been out in the cold in the first place. It was the first time in months after the nogitsune that Stiles felt this well. He could sense that everyone here felt it, too. As if that tree had lured Stiles into the forest on purpose to give them this moment of calm and content. He was glad he could share it with them all.

The tune softly faded away, almost unnoticed, it was so slow. But their little group stayed close, embracing each other, for a long time after the tune had stopped and the glow had gone.

"We've got you" the sheriff whispered, as if afraid to disturb the moment. Stiles hugged him, and everyone else in the process, harder.

"Yeah," he said, and realized that he actually believed it. For the first time in over five months, all because of thousands of tiny benevolent tree spirits, as they would later find out. "We've got each other."


End file.
